“This is from the Royal Household,” Rafe said.
“Yes, my lord.” The messenger was edging his horse away. “They’ve sent scores of messengers out across Britain.”
“This one is addressed to the Countess of Luxborough.” Thea sounded as dazed as Rafe felt. “Why would the Royal Household write to me?”
But the messenger’s job was to deliver news, not explain it, and he looked relieved when a servant dashed out to guide him around the back for refreshments and his tip.
Rafe studied the letter in his hand. Letters sent across the country? Maybe the king had died or something. Nothing important, anyway. This wasn’t over yet.
Beside him, Thea’s elbow bumped against his arm as she yanked off one glove and slid a finger under the wax. The gravel was cold and sharp under his buttocks, and getting colder and sharper, but Rafe stayed seated, as he tore open his letter and scanned it. Definitely nothing important—merely a stern reminder that a peer was expected to present his new bride at Court and something something blah blah blah. Rafe scrunched the page into a ball, bounded to his feet, and dusted himself off. He extended a hand to Thea, who was staring at a thick, cream-colored card.
“Countess?”
She looked up, her expression aglow with excitement or delight, some feeling that had nothing to do with sitting beside him on cold, sharp gravel.
“’Tis our invitation,” she said. “To the party.”
“What party?”
“You remember. The Prince Regent is hosting a party to celebrate the return of the Marquess of Hardbury.”
“He is?”
“We discussed it in London.”
“We did?”
“You obtained invitations for my parents. How can you not recall?”
Finally, she noticed his outstretched hand and took it. Her fingers were chilled; he wrapped his hand further around them.
“A party with the Prince Regent and your parents?” he said, as he pulled her upright. “That sounds like exactly the sort of thing I would be at pains to forget.”
“It was right after we…” She bit her lip and glanced down at their joined hands. He released her and they both stepped back. “In London. You remember?”
“No.”
“After we…kissed.”
“Ah. Yes. We kissed. I do remember that.”
Slowly, the rest of that evening came back to him. The kiss was worth remembering; the party was not, given that neither of them would attend. Thea would not be allowed through the gates, and Rafe would prefer to be wrapped in chains and thrown into the lake in winter.
“Someone decided it should be a costume party,” she raced on, her voice too high, as she shook out her skirts. “That sounds diverting, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“No. Do you?”
“Indeed I do.” A faraway look entered her eyes, though her jaw had a fiercely determined set. “Everyone will be there, all of society. All those people…”
There it was. Thea longed to be in society, surrounded by people. Rafe could count on his fingers the number of people whose company he truly enjoyed, and still have his thumbs free to twiddle.
He pivoted and strode into the house, tossing the screwed-up letter from one hand to the other. He could end this now. No need to wait for confirmation of the money or the marriage; news would arrive soon. Send Thea away to… Well, it was hardly his concern where she ended up, was it?
He swung around. She was trailing behind him, drumming her fingers on the invitation, her expression thoughtful.
She really wanted to attend that party.
But a ruined, friendless, scandal-ridden, middle-class outcast could not attend the Prince Regent’s costume party. Not without help from someone who was very well connected. Or from someone who was an earl.
It didn’t matter to Rafe one way or another if she went to that ball. But it mattered to her.
And suddenly, that was enough.
“There are two rooms of costumes upstairs,” he said. “Take what you want.”
“Costumes?”
“My parents loved amateur theatrics. Every year, they hosted huge house parties, during which the guests rehearsed and performed in plays, with elaborate costumes made specially. The village women did very well out of it.”
“And you too? You will attend?”
“I’m not going to any blasted costume party,” he said, and wheeled about and started down the hall.
Lord Luxborough bellowed for Sally to fetch the keys, and the three of them trooped up to the third floor. Thea watched the other two carefully, but nothing in their manner toward each other aroused any suspicions; although Sally did not pay the earl due deference, Thea detected no hint of intimacy or shared secrets. Still, she could not fathom why neither had mentioned their shared past, living together in the Dower House with Luxborough’s wife, but neither could she think of a reason to ask.